


Karma

by someofthissomeofthat11011



Series: Bramverse [2]
Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 18:37:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14677007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someofthissomeofthat11011/pseuds/someofthissomeofthat11011
Summary: SEQUEL TO BABY STEPS! After Martin outs Simon and Bram, a lot happens. Martin is suspended, winter break is right around the corner, and Simon and Bram’s relationship begins to blossom. But Martin throws an unexpected twist towards them that threatens their love and their future together.





	Karma

**Author's Note:**

> So a lot of you asked for a sequel. I hope I did this justice! I wouln’t mind adding to this universe, so if there’s anything else you’d like to see happen, let me know :) Also, as a general disclaimer, I actually and literally stayed up all night because inspiration struck and I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted to do with this. My alarm went off to let me know that I needed to wake up and I was just kinda like ‘wha? Where’d the moon go?’ So I hope you like it, because the nine plus hours I spent finishing it were a blast :)

 

If it isn’t for Simon, I actually think I would fall asleep. We’ve been sitting outside the principal’s office for over an hour while we wait for Ms. Knight to finish talking to Martin. If we so much as nonverbally talk to each other, the secretary tells us we’re being too loud. Seriously. She’s like a bat with her hearing.

Simon more than makes up for it. He’s constantly shifting which means our knees are brushing and our elbows are knocking. Every time he touches me, I feel warm all over. I don’t even know if he’s aware of it.

I’m dying to talk to him, but the secretary seems hellbent on keeping us silent, so I wait. I don’t even know what I want to talk to him about. I just want to hear his voice and I want to hear him say that everything’s going to be fine as long as we’re together.

“Ms. Ellbenger?” Simon asks. “May I go to the bathroom?”

“Be quick about it,” she warns. She doesn’t look up and Simon carefully rises to his feet. When he’s in front of her, he waves his arms as if he’s testing her. Then he motions at me to follow him.

I don’t hesitate. I don’t know if we’re in trouble or why exactly we’re waiting outside Ms. Knight’s office, but I know she’s gonna be a lot longer with Martin. We were able to hear snippets of her conversation with Martin every time Ms. Ellbenger went in to bring her some paperwork and we heard her on the phone with one of Martin’s parents about fifteen minutes ago.

Simon leads me down a hallway with no classrooms. There are about two dozen lockers that ring the wall, but other than that, it’s empty. “I had a locker here freshman year,” he tells me. “I found this to be a pretty good place to hide when I needed a break.”

“A break from what?” I ask curiously.

“School. Girlfriends. The kid in my Debate class who did a presentation on how gay people were created by aliens to reduce our reproduction rate and slowly kill off the human race,” Simon says with a shrug.

“He did not say that,” I gasp.

“Our teacher didn’t even try to stop him. She just kind of assumed that none of us would care.” Simon has a far-off look. “I remember raising my hand to express that his theory was absurd and she told me that I was being rude. I asked to go to the bathroom and spent the rest of the period here. At that point, I was actually dating Anna, so I really didn’t have anyone I could talk to. Man, freshman year Simon could have really used you.”

“I wish I had known.” I don’t think I necessarily meant that. I did a lot of growing up my freshman and sophomore year. I don’t know that Simon and I would have clicked our freshman year. For one, he was still one girlfriend away from accepting that being gay was permanent and I was so far in the closet that I was actually laughing at gay jokes. So no, I think it was meant to be that we waited so long to start talking.

“I don’t,” he says as if he can read my thoughts. “I’m pretty sure you would have hated me freshman year. I dated Anna most of the year until she broke up with me because she didn’t think I was ‘feeling’ our relationship anymore. And because she told me that she loved me and I said thank you.”

“You did not.” I have to stifle my laughter.

“I did. That’s not as bad as eighth grade, but it’s not one of my prouder moments,” Simon admits. He sits down in the corner of the hallway and looks at his watch. “We have eight minutes until the bell rings. As long as we’re back before that, I doubt Ms. Ellbenger will notice our absence.”

“Eight minutes,” I muse. It simultaneously seems like a really long time and no time at all. “What do you want to do?”

“Talk,” he says. “You must have some crazy stuff going through your head. You started tapping your foot in the office. You only do that when you’re really, really nervous.”

I raise my eyebrows. I hadn’t noticed that I do that.

“I guess it’s just the suddenness of it all,” I say after I sit down next to him. “I figured we’d be out at school at some point. I just never imagined it would happen in such a public way. If he’d posted our emails to creeksecrets, a lot of people wouldn’t have seen it. Not every teacher would have known. Instead, he blasted a conversation we had. People heard this private moment between us. Somehow, it’s worse than anything else he could have done.”

“I know what you mean.” He studies me for a moment before he puts his arm around my shoulder. He’s smaller than me, but somehow I don’t notice it as I lean into his embrace. “Our emails were personal, but they weren’t that personal. And we’d prepared ourselves for those to come out. I never thought he would have recorded a conversation between us, especially not that conversation.”

I close my eyes. “He sucks.”

“Yeah.” Simon’s arms tighten around me. “Bram?” I look at him curiously. “How do you want us to act around school?”

I bite my lip. “I don’t want to offend you. It’s not you, it’s not even the gay thing. I want us to keep our private life… private. I don’t mind holding hands every now and then. And I definitely want to see you and talk to you throughout the day. I don’t want to pretend we’re not together or anything like that, but…”

“But you want us to be subtle,” Simon finishes. He doesn’t look upset, which I take to be a good sign.

“Yeah,” I agree.

“I think that makes sense. I would think that’s what you’d want on dates too.” He’s trying too hard to look apathetic that I know he cares deeply about what I’m going to say.

I instantly think about what he asked me before school and I wonder if he’s thinking about it too. “I think that will be case by case. In a dark movie theater, for example, we would be able to get a seat in the back and it will practically be like we’re alone.” I know I’m smiling a little at the thought of what that would look like. I can picture us both reaching for popcorn at the same time and holding hands for the rest of the movie. I can see us joking back and forth about what’s happening and sharing theories about how it will turn out. I can picture myself resting my head on his shoulder, kind of like I am now, and enjoying the movie from that vantage.

“You know, no one’s around right now,” Simon says suggestively.

I grin and lift my head so I’m looking right in his eye. “What are you gonna do about that?” I challenge.

“This.” He presses his lips to mine and for a moment, that’s all there is. There’s no Martin. No Ms. Knight. No drama over being outed. Just his lips on mine. It isn’t until he pulls away that I realize how much I needed that. I needed him to make me forget. He stands up. “We’d better get back.”

I grab his hand and he pulls me to my feet. We walk back to the office and take our seats just as the bell rings. No sooner do we sit down than a middle-aged woman with curly, blonde hair walks in. She is wearing a pant suit and everything about her from her solemn expression to the briefcase she’s holding screams business. Right behind her is a balding man with brown hair. He’s dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and khakis. I guess no one told him it’s December… and that this is Georgia. There’s no doubt in my mind that these are his parents. I recognize them from Waffle House and Martin looks just like his mom, it’s almost a little creepy.

“We have a meeting with Ms. Knight,” his mom says sharply. Martin may look just like her, but he doesn’t seem to have inherited her personality. She seems like the kind of person that wouldn’t tolerate fun.

“We’re hoping Ms. Knight can shed some light on our plight,” his dad says. He’s soft spoken and his eyes kind of crinkle when he makes his joke. He’s grinning to himself even as his wife is rolling her eyes.

I can’t help but smile. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s how funny he finds himself, how disgruntled Martin’s mom looks when he makes that joke, or how utterly harmless the joke is.

Ms. Ellenberger leads them to the back where me and Simon are sitting. The frustrated look on his mom’s face only deepens when she sees us sitting outside. For a second, I think it’s because we’re gay, but it’s pretty unlikely she knows who we are. It’s not like we have a sign over us saying ‘gay couple waiting for principal’. It’s strange though, because she looks like she recognizes us. She disappears into the principal office.

“Do you think Martin told them?” Simon asks while Ms. Ellenberger is distracted.

“Huh?” I look at him confused.

“That day in Waffle House. Do you think he told them?”

I frown. I hadn’t really considered that, but it would explain her disgruntled expression. Before I’m able to say anything, we hear shouting coming from the principal’s office. Ms. Knight has mastered the art of speaking just loud enough to sound scary, but not loud enough to be overheard – which I’m sure is great when you’re the one being yelled at, but has been really inconvenient this last hour. Fortunately, Martin’s mother has no such mastery. “You did what?” we hear her shout. There are muted voices for a moment before she continues. “We did not raise you to do shit like that. How dare you? How would you feel if someone did that to your brother? You know how hard it was for him to come out to us!”

I frown. I had kinda assumed he had made up the bit about having a gay brother as a way of telling me he knew my secret… guess not. There’s more mumbling and then, “I don’t care if you had your reasons. There is no reason that’s good enough to justify something like that! You better believe that you are going to find a way to make this up to those boys.” another pause. “Well I guess it’s a good thing that you’re suspended for three days. You’ll have lots of time to think about it.”

Martin said something. Not for the first time, I wish the walls were thinner so I could hear what he’s saying. “This was not a bullshit decision! You violated the privacy of those young men, used school equipment to broadcast it when you were supposed to be delivering announcements, and what’s worse is you aren’t showing a sliver of remorse. I think you’re lucky it’s not more time.” I feel a burst of appreciation for Martin’s mother. So many parents didn’t believe their kids could do any wrong. It’s refreshing to hear her stand up for us over her son when she knows next to nothing about us.

There is silence in the office for a long time until the door opens. “Simon, Bram. Can the two of you come in here?” Ms. Knight asks.

I look at Simon nervously as we rise to our feet. We walk into the office and I instinctively look around. I’ve never been here before. Mostly because I avoid trouble like the plague. I’m not afraid of the principal’s office… okay, that might be a lie. But what good ever comes from being in the principal’s office?

Martin’s sitting in a chair in front of Ms. Knight’s desk. His arms are crossed across his chest and everything from the look on his face to his posture screams ‘defensive’. His mother looks… furious, that’s the only word I can use to describe her. Her hands are on her hips and if the look on her face was being directed towards me, I’m pretty sure I would do anything she asked. Martin’s dad just kind of looks lost. It’s almost comical, except I’m too scared to really find it funny.

Simon walks to stand against the wall and I quickly follow him. He brushes his arm against mine and I have a feeling he knows how nervous I am. I can’t even explain it. Maybe it’s the hype about the principal’s office or the way teachers threaten to send students here as a punishment, but being in this tiny office is making my skin crawl. It’s making my chest feel tight even though I know I’ve done nothing wrong. That almost disappears when Simon brushes against me again. I’m not alone. No matter what happens within these walls, I’m not alone.

Martin’s mom’s face softens when she sees us. She’s standing to the side of Ms. Knight’s desk and is facing us and Martin. She smiles at us, which I don’t expect.

“Martin has something he would like to say to you,” Ms. Knight tells us.

“Sorry,” he grumbles. I have to force a smile and nod. I don't try to say it's fine, because it's not. And because he clearly doesn't mean it.

Ms. Knight tsks, but doesn't call him out for his half-assed apology. “You may go. We'll see you on Thursday with those letters,” Ms. Knight says to Martin.

“We'll make sure he does it,” Mrs. Addison promises.

“Bram, Simon. I'm going to ask that you stay here for a few moments,” Ms. Knight requests as we start to leave.

I wait until Martin's gone before I take the seat he abandoned. Simon sits next to me. “Simon, in light of what happened, I’ve decided that you will not be penalized for leaving homeroom without permission. I'm sorry that this happened to you. School is supposed to be a safe space-” I snort. “What's so funny Mr. Greenfeld?”

Maybe I should have taken Simon's question more seriously before, maybe I am crazy. Maybe the nerves of being called down to the principal’s office, and the terror of suddenly being outed, and the fear of what comes next actually made me go crazy. But somehow the fact that she has no idea what goes on in her school makes me snap. “Do you know how many openly gay kids go here?” I ask angrily. “Not many. And do you know why? Because they can't walk through the hallway without being called a fag or homo countless times, without being teased, or without snide comments being made about their sexual orientation.”

Once, when I was a sophomore, I had actually imagined having this exact conversation with an administrator. I had never thought I would do it, but there had been an incident during gym class and it had made me feel better to plan out exactly how this conversation would go. A kid who had come out as gay, who doesn't go here anymore I might add, was taking a shower when some guys stole his clothes. He'd had to wait in the gym teachers’ office in only a towel while his parents brought him a change of clothes. I remember thinking it could have been me. We don't even usually shower after gym class, it was a fluke that could have happened to anyone. We'd been playing football and it was muddy. A lot of us had needed to clean up a little more than usual. Those kids could have asked me how I ever planned to get a boyfriend if I covered up ‘my goods’, they could have told me that I was a fag, and I could have been the one that was told that no one would ever love me because I'm gay. What made it worse is the kid told Ms. Knight that he didn't know who had done it. We'd all known and not one of us spoke up.

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Ms. Knight says slowly.

“It's not just him that feels that way,” Simon adds. I’m grateful for his intervention, because I think my spurt of insanity was brief and now I just feel a little panicked. “It's one of the reasons we were trying not to come out to the school. Kids here aren't exactly known for their kindness.”

“Creekwood has a wonderful student population and compared to other high schools in Georgia, we are a welcoming community,” Ms. Knight says defensively.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Simon asks.

“Language Mr. Spier,” Ms. Knight warns.

“Sorry, but if you spent thirty seconds in the hallway between class, you’d know that's complete BS. This freaking school is the opposite of welcoming.” Simon jumps to his feet. “You know, when Martin found out Bram was gay, he started blackmailing him. He didn't offer his support, he didn't try to ‘welcome him’; he used what he found out to get Bram to do something he didn’t want to do. That's the kind of school that we go to. I'm sorry if you don't see that, because until you do, things will never get better. Kids will continue to be complete assholes and will never be held responsible.” I stare at Simon in amazement.

“If you recall, Mr. Addison got suspended,” Ms. Knight says dryly. “I’d say that’s holding him responsible.”

“Yeah, he got suspended because he hijacked the freaking intercom. And played our entire conversation. Why didn't anyone stop him? Why was he allowed to play it all the way through?” Simon challenges.

“We experienced some technical difficulties while trying to turn off the intercom.” Ms. Knight is practically talking to us through gritted teeth.

Simon just looks shocked for a moment and I can pinpoint the exact moment that he accepts the inevitable: Ms. Knight doesn’t want to hear us. “Right. Well, Ms. Knight, I've said everything I need to say. I'll see you on Monday.” Simon turns and walks out.

I look at Ms. Knight as I stand. “He's right, you know,” I say quietly. “If you don't do something, who will? I'll see you on Monday.”

“Mr. Greenfeld!”

I don't turn back when she calls my name a second time or a third time. I walk out and follow Simon. He's about to turn towards the door. “Wait!” I call.

Simon turns and looks shocked to see me. “What are you doing? You're going to get in so much trouble,” he says.

“I don't care,” I say. And I mean it. “Plus, I believe someone promised me a movie.”

“It's like ten am,” Simon points out.

“We'll catch a matinee,” I say with a shrug. It's kind of exhilarating, breaking the rules like this. I think this is how Hermione felt in the movie with the evil teacher... but like the teacher they knew was evil pretty much from day one. The pink lady. I can’t remember what movie it is or her name – I binge watched all eight movies with Garrett after Simon pretty much told me Harry Potter was his life. “I just need to stop at my locker and grab my books. I'm going to have so much to catch up on this weekend.”

“There's the Bram I know and love,” Simon teases. He follows me to my locker anyway.

I completely empty out my locker. “Do you need to get your stuff?” I ask him curiously.

“Nope.” He pops the p. “I, like most normal high school students, am going to take advantage of the fact that I have a day off and I'll get all my make-up work on Monday.”

“Are you calling me abnormal?” I ask with a small smile on my face. Because, yeah he is, but he’s doing it in such a cute way. I can’t even feel upset about it.

“Of course I am. But I wouldn't have you any other way.” He holds his hand out to me and I take it. We start to walk towards the exit just as the bell rings. His grip on my hand tightens as he weaves in and out of other students. He stares straight ahead, and I do the same. Kids stare and whisper, but it's not as unbearable with Simon by my side.

We get outside and Simon quickly kisses me. “I can’t believe we walked out,” I whisper.

“Actions have consequences, even Ms. Knight’s actions. If this is what it takes for her to realize that, then so be it,” he asserts. I can only nod.

He goes to his car and I go to mine. I follow him to his house so he can drop off his car then we head to that theater he found. It's almost 45 minutes from his house, but I'm surprised to realize it's only about 20 from mine. I wonder why I've never heard of it.

We buy tickets for some romantic comedy. I pay for the tickets while Simon pays for the refreshments. We are two minutes late and walk in just as the previews are starting. Despite being late, we're the first ones to the theater. Only three other people come in before the movie starts. The theater has these comfy reclining chairs and the moment the lights dim, we lift up the arm rest that separates us and he leans into my chest. I have no idea what happens in the movie. We don't make out or anything like that, but I have trouble taking my eyes off of him.

We end up going to my place after that. I know Simon doesn't understand, but I need to tell my mom that I skipped the rest of school. She may already know, but I want her to hear it from me regardless. When we walk in, my mom is vacuuming. She singing a song from Wicked and is dancing a little. I've never seen her do that before. I clear my throat, but she doesn't seem to notice, so I flick the lights on and off.

She turns around with her hand over her heart. “Bram!” She turns off the vacuum. “You almost gave me a heart attack. What are you doing home?”

“Um… I kinda left school early,” I admit. I feel like I'm confessing to murder.

“Why?” Her eyes are on me. I'm a good student. I try really hard. I even get good grades in Algebra, because I'm always asking for extra help. I've never so much as cut class, much less school.

“We were outed this morning,” I explain. “In the most public way possible. And Ms. Knight tried to say that the school was welcoming and that she's sorry I feel like it's not. And I just lost it. I'm so sorry.”

My mom studies me for a moment before she nods. “You did what you had to do.” She turns back to the vacuum. “I'll call Ms. Knight later and tell her that I needed you to come home. Simon, I'm sorry. I wish I could help you.”

“It's fine,” Simon says with a shrug.

I think I'm still in a state of shock. My mom is totally letting me get away with this. It's the last thing I expected. “Thanks,” I whisper.

She hesitates before she turns back to me. “You get to take some time when things like this happen. You shouldn't have to go through this alone.” Her eyes flicker to Simon. “You have no idea how happy I am that you don't have to. No matter what happens at school, I love you.”

I hug her. “I love you too mom. Thanks. For everything.” When we break our hug, I look towards Simon. “We're going to my room.”

“Door open,” she warns as she turns the vacuum back on.

Simon follows me up the stairs towards my bedroom. When we get in, he closes my door so that only a sliver of space shows. I guess it's technically open.

I put my bag by my desk and Simon does the same. “Your mom is awesome,” he tells me.

“Yeah, she is,” I agree. I can't help but smile. Everything has happened so quickly, but I don't mind it as much as I thought I would.

“So before we start making out,” Simon starts bluntly. “There's something I need you to promise me.”

“What's that?” I ask curiously.

“When we go back to school, if kids start giving you crap about being gay, you have to tell me. You can't hide it from me,” he warns. “I'll do the same, but I can't help you if you keep stuff bottled up.”

I nod. “Okay. I'll tell you if anything happens.”

“I’m serious. You can’t worry about it being too much for me or it being too embarrassing or something like that.” He’s staring at me intently. It's a sign of how well he knows me that we're having this conversation, because he's absolutely right. I never would have told him.

I nod and that seems to end our conversation because suddenly Simon is kissing me.

I'm pretty sure if I could bottle magic it would look exactly like our weekend felt. In retrospect, there wasn't anything particularly special about it. I spent all day Saturday with Simon’s family. On the outside, they are this picture perfect family. Mom, dad, two girls, one boy. They even have the dog. On the inside, they are even more than that. They clearly all love each other and they have so many weird things that are just for them. I feel like I'm being immersed into a whole new world with them. I accidentally let it slip that I've never seen the Bachelor and I'm invited to come back on Monday and watch it. From the look Simon's dad gives me, I don't think it's optional. I thought he was being dramatic when he said his family is obsessed with the Bachelor.

Simon spends Sunday with me and my mom. It's nothing like spending time with his family, but he seems to enjoy himself just as much.

And then it's Monday. I am simultaneously dreading and looking forward to going back to school.

I pick Simon up on my way to school. We'd decided to make a statement and arrive together. And I think Simon knows that I'm scared out of my mind. When we walk into the school, Simon meets every stare with his head held high. Most people quickly look away when they realize they've gotten caught.

Nothing happens until right before lunch. Simon is waiting for me at my locker and at first, I don't understand what's distracting him. Then I see Carl standing next to him. The tension is obvious even from down the hall and I pick up my pace. “Is there a problem here?” I ask.

“What was that you were saying? That you weren't waiting for your fag boyfriend?”

I frown. I don't know why he would have lied. Unless he didn't feel like he had another choice.

“So, fag boyfriend. Simon here was being really uncooperative, but you'll answer my questions, won't you. I'm curious. Do you get turned on in the locker room?”

I don't give him the time of day. “Let's get to lunch,” I say to Simon.

We walk to lunch quietly. “Sorry. I thought if I told him you weren't coming that he would leave,” Simon says as we near the cafeteria. “I have gym right before lunch and he was like that all period.”

“I'm not mad… well, not at you,” I promise. “This is exactly what we were talking about on Friday, but there's no problem at this school.”

Lunch actually isn't too bad. People make some snide comments as they pass by our lunch table, but they're too scared of Nick and Garrett to do anything.

The worst of my day is gym class. I get there before anyone else, so I can change in the bathroom and I'm in the gym before most people are in the locker room. After gym though, there's no escape. I change in the bathroom again and line up at the exit. They give us 10 minutes to change at the end of class, so I have about nine minutes to go by the time I'm done. It's funny, because before I was outed, I never had a problem changing in the locker room. I didn't try to look at other guys and didn't think anything of it, but now I'm hyper aware that they may think I'm trying to look.

“What's wrong Greenfeld?” Someone calls. “You seem to be in a hurry to get out of here.” I don't turn to see who it is and I don't acknowledge what they said. “Don't you want to see what you're missing out on?”

Suddenly, a gym teacher materializes. “Greenfeld. Ms Knight wants to see you.”

I internally groan. I know my mom had called, so I'm not in trouble for skipping. I can't imagine what she wants. When I get out, I see Simon leaning against the white concrete. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Springing you. I know how gym went this morning and I figured you could use a break,” he shrugs. “Plus we have Algebra next and I thought we could walk there together.”

“Aren't you supposed to be in class?” I ask skeptically.

“Study hall,” Simon says with a grin.

“How did you manage to earn study hall?” I ask. At Creekwood, students usually only got study hall if they needed a free period to focus on a class they weren't doing well in.

“Everyone that's in the play gets one,” he explains. “We’re supposed to use the time to learn our lines… no one except for Taylor does anything play related this period.”

“Must be nice,” I muse. I guess they get away with that because there's no elective for theater.

We are slowly walking the halls and this is what I thought being with Simon would look like. We're not holding hands, but I don't feel like we need to. We tease and talk effortlessly and the next few minutes fly by. By the time the bell rings, I know I'm red, both from laughing so hard and from some of the things Simon said to me. We loiter outside Algebra because Simon refuses to be early.

“Why do you hate Algebra so much?” I ask him curiously.

He looks at me surprised. “I don't.”

“Then why can't we go in?” I ask.

“Algebra isn't my problem with this class.” Simon looks away from me and bites his lip. “This probably seems childish, but Nora has Mr. Vernor. He told her she was hopeless with math at the beginning of the year and I dunno… it really upset her. I haven't really been able to forget it since she told me.”

“I think that’s very noble of you,” I say with a grin.

He smiles so I know he's pleased. “Plus, I practically have this whole not being late thing down to a science. Come on.” He pushes himself off the wall and the moment I cross over the threshold, the bell rings. He gives me a small smile as he walks to his assigned seat and I walk towards mine. Mr. Vernor seated us alphabetically so I ended up at the very front of the second row and Simon is at the very back of the fourth.

Once school gets out, I head to Simon's locker because that's where we planned to meet. It takes me a minute to get to him, because there's a small crowd standing around his locker. Several of them are giggling. He's staring at something and as I get nearer, I lose my ability to feel anything but horror. Someone keyed his locker. I didn't know people still did that. They carved a weirdly detailed penis. There are no words accompanying the drawing. Simon takes out his phone and snaps a picture of it. I don't understand what he's doing at first until my phone buzzes in my pocket.

As I pull out my phone, I see a text from him. It says _diching play practice. come quick_. And he attached the picture.

“Is that quick enough?” I ask. He turns to see me and I'm surprised to see he's crying. “Did you get your stuff already?” I ask.

He shakes his head and moves on autopilot. He opens his locker. His locker is full of loose pieces of paper and books. “Can we give your locker a makeover? Let's take all this home. We'll make you so organized.” I feel excited just thinking about the prospect of organizing all his school stuff. I know it sounds silly, but I love organizing stuff. I find it relaxing.

“You're really weird, you know that right,” Simon says affectionately. He's already stuffing his bag and I try not to cringe at how bent and crumpled his papers are going to be.

“Imagine how much better your school day will go if you know where everything is,” I point out.

I take some of the stuff from his locker and hold it in my arms. Once his locker is empty, we start to leave. I stop in the main office. “Let Ms. Knight know there's an issue with locker 318.” I sound bitter and I know it, but I can't help it. I’m sure she’ll have an excuse for why this happened as well and I’m sure it will have nothing to do with the students.

We go to my car and I carefully arrange his books in my backseat so that they won't go flying everywhere.

“Maybe you should buckle them in like a little kid,” Simon teases. He throws his bag in the back haphazardly.

I roll my eyes and once I'm sure they're secure, I get in my car and drive to my house.

I'm in heaven that afternoon. Simon gives me free reign over his school stuff and sits on the couch while I am immersed in his school stuff. I think he felt like he was getting in the way... I'd feel worse for that if it weren't true. I love Simon, but he wouldn’t know chronological order if he had a calendar in front of him. By the time I'm done with everything, his stuff is separated by class, is color coded, and is in chronological order. Not a single piece of paper sticks out.

I sigh happily. “You really liked doing that?” He asks incredulously.

“I did,” I confirm.

“My bedroom must drive you nuts, huh?” He asks.

I duck my head. The mess in his bedroom doesn't bother me because it's so utterly Simon. “I don't mind it,” I say. Maybe one day if this thing between us lasts, we'll have to find an in between, because I will never live like that and the more I get to know him, the more I doubt he will ever live like me. But while he's living by himself, it's fine.

We lose track of time until my mom comes in with dinner. “You boys hungry?”

It makes me really happy that she doesn't need to look over to figure out that he's here. She just makes the assumption. I don't know why that makes me so happy, but it does. “Ravenous,” Simon answers. “Watching Bram organize my school stuff really made me hungry.”

“You let him organize your school stuff?” She raises her eyebrows. “And here I was thinking that's third date material.”

I roll my eyes. “Haha, very funny. His stuff was a nightmare. It was a lot of fun!”

“I'm sure it was. Simon, did Bram tell you about his thing for school supplies?” She asks. She has this evil smile on her face and I know she's about to embarrass me. I groan. I had only told Simon that I really like school supplies and I have a feeling she's about to blow my cover.

“He said he liked them.” Simon looks between us curiously.

“Liked them. Pshah. He's obsessed with them. I remember the summer before he started first grade, he spent almost an hour picking out his school supplies. He needed everything to match. The folder needed to match the notebook. He needed one of those composition notebooks for his Reading class and wouldn’t you guess it? He found the only marble folder in the store.”

“Aww seven-year-old Bram sounds adorable,” Simon grins.

“He still does that,” she tells him.

Simon looks at me and it makes me feel self-conscious in a completely different way. “I believe it.”

“He went through this phase when he was ten where he would alphabetized crayons. We had gotten him this huge pack before he started fifth grade and I found him in his room alphabetizing about 120 crayons.” I glare at my mom. Can she please stop talking? “It's not just school supplies he likes to organize. When he was little, he organized our shoes. We used to keep them in our coat closet and while I was making dinner he started waddling around in these heels I used to own. I think I have a picture of that somewhere.”

She looks around thoughtfully while Simon chuckles. “No need,” I say quickly. “I think you have dinner.”

“Dinner can wait. I want to see little Bram in high heels,” Simon says eagerly. He's a little too excited for this.

It takes my mom less than five minutes to locate that picture of me and over thirty minutes for Simon to stop laughing. He takes a picture of it. “This is totally going to be my screensaver.”

I groan, but part of me doesn't mind so much. It helps that Simon is looking at the picture like it’s a treasure rather than like it’s something that he can tease me about. He comments multiple times on how adorable I was when I was little and something in his eyes makes me think that if my mom weren’t here, he’d be telling me that I’m still adorable. I make a mental note to ask to see some pictures of Simon when he was younger the next time I’m at his house.

It seems like the days leading up to winter break drag on during the school day and fly by when I'm with Simon after play practice gets out. I'm excited and nervous for winter break.

I'm going to visit my dad from the 26th through the 3rd of January. He gave me permission to invite Simon, but part of me is terrified Simon will think we're moving too fast if I ask him. Plus, there's no guarantee his parents will even let him go.

It's not until the Monday before my trip that I muster up the courage to ask him. I intercept him before lunch. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Simon asks.

“Out.” I can't help but smile. Who knew Simon would turn me into such a rule breaker? Only seniors are allowed to leave during lunch, but I doubt they'll notice.

Sure enough, we get out without a problem. I drive to Publix and when we get there, I send Simon to get a pint of milk while I look for the cups of mini Oreos. I grab spoons as I pass them.

I pay and we run back out to my car. We still have twenty minutes left of lunch. “So, I'm going to my dads in a few days,” I say casually.

“Oh yeah.” He frowns. “I guess that kind of crept up on us, huh.”

“Yeah.” I hesitate. “It's gonna be a long nine days without you.” I finally find the courage to look at him. “Of course, it won't seem so long… if you come with me.”

Simon stares. “Wait, are you serious? You want me to come to Savannah with you?” He asks.

“Only if you want,” I add hastily.

“I want. Boy do I want. I will be there. God, this is so exciting! I can delete the mopey playlist I started making for while you're gone. Ooh, I have to pack. Should I pack anything special? I wonder what the weather will be like. How far does your dad live from the beach? Do I need to bring sheets or towels or anything?”

He's speaking a mile a minute, it's hard to keep up with him. “Wait, don't you need to ask your parents.”

“They called me out on what my mom called my ‘pre-mope’ yesterday. I don't think they'll put up much of a fight,” he says. He's practically bouncing up and down.

“Okay, well until you get the official okay from them, I am not getting my hopes up,” I warn.

“I'll ask them when I get home from play practice,” he promises. It's my turn to go to his place so he'll have a few minutes with his parents before I get there. We’d implemented turns because, while my mom is gone more often which gives us some much needed privacy, it’s not fair for him to have to drive to my place every time when we live so far apart.

“Good.” I turn back to my lunch. It's all Oreo mush now, but I don't mind.

I get a call from Simon as I'm driving to his place. “Hey,” he says glumly. I feel my heart sink in my chest. His parents must have said no. Without meaning to, I realize just how much I got my hopes up. “So, my parents want to know how much money to give me for gas.”

It takes me over a minute to process why his voice is full of laughter at the end and what his words imply. “They said yes?” I confirm.

“They have their conditions, but yes. They said yes!”

I feel like I could squeal. “I'll be there in two minutes,” I promise.

Simon hangs up. He doesn't really like goodbyes, even small ones like that. Simon's already outside when I pull up to his house. I'm barely out of my car before he's kissing me. “Do you realize that you left me four days to pack for a nine-day trip?” Simon asks. “My parents are practically frantic. This is gonna be my first big trip without them. Your dad won't mind talking to them every day, right? It's one of their conditions.”

“He won't mind. What are their other conditions?”

“I have to call every day. I have to take pictures and share them. And…” he trails off, his cheeks a soft red.

“And?” I ask.

“They're buying me condoms that they say I have to take with me. I don't plan on using them,” he says quickly. “I told them we're not ready for that, but that fell on deaf ears.”

I frown. “I'm not ready for that yet either. Soon, I think we'll have to talk about that… but not yet.”

“Soon,” he agrees.

The next four days fly by. My heart has not stopped fluttering since I found out that Simon is coming to Savannah with me. I don't see him on Christmas, but I call him and I know I'll see him bright and early tomorrow. “I would not wake up at four in the morning for just anyone,” he reminds me for the hundredth time since I told him what time we were leaving. He hung up right after that to 'get some beauty sleep.’

I'm outside his house a couple of minutes before 4. I knock lightly on his door and he opens it. His house is a flurry of movement. Nora looks like she's dozing off on Alice's shoulder. They are both sitting on the stairs while their parents and Simon bustle around them.

Simon looks like he's had about 15 cups of coffee. “Mom, I'm sure I've packed everything,” he assures her. She listing off things she thinks he’ll need. It doesn't escape my notice that his suitcase is in the corner and a little blue bag sits on top. We'd agreed no presents and I guess I'm not the only one that cheated. I can't wait to see what he got me. I’m not usually a materialistic person, but this is the first time we’re really exchanging gifts. She asks me a bunch of questions about the house we're staying in and hugs Simon for about ten minutes while she cries about how her ‘little boy is all grown up.’ Then Simon says goodbye to his sisters and we finally get to leave.

It's a four-hour drive to Savannah and my dad isn’t expecting us until ten. I tell Simon this when he gets in the car and to my surprise, he doesn't complain about having to wake up early.

“So what's the plan?” He asks. “I'm guessing there's a plan.”

“Yup,” I say. I don't give him any more details, but a little before six I pull off the highway. Despite the fact we left late, we got here early. I had spent hours finding a Waffle House that lined up with our route.

I pull into the empty parking lot. “You should bring that blue bag,” I say nonchalantly.

“You peeked,” he accuses.

“No. I saw the bag when we were at your place. It's okay. I cheated too.” I smile at him and grab the green gift bag I had stashed in my backseat.

He grabs his gift and we head in. Once we're seated and we place our order, I hand him the gift I bought for him.

I watch him nervously as he pulls out the Elliot Smith t-shirt. I am almost positive he'll like it, but there's always the chance he won't. A huge grin crosses his face when he sees it. “I love it,” he declares.

“Are you sure? Because I can return it,” I tell him.

“Seriously. You’re amazing. I’d put this on right now, but I’m wearing a hoodie and we’re in a public diner.” I smile. I had been nervous, because he'd once said it felt inauthentic to own merchandise for an artist when he never saw them play, but considering we were five when he died, I felt this was an exception. “This makes what I got you look like crap.”

“I highly doubt that.” He hesitates before he passes me the bag he brought with him. I eagerly open it and my jaw practically drops. “Did you draw this?”

“I wish. Leah did. I was looking through her sketchbook and I found this. When she has free time or when she’s anxious about something, she’ll draw and one day she had this image of us from lunch stuck in her head and… I dunno. When I saw it, I really wanted to give it to you. It seemed like something you would like.” He looks doubtful, but I don’t think he realizes the perfection of what he got me.

In the drawing, Simon and I are sitting next to each other in the cafeteria. He’s reaching up to wipe something off my cheek and I’m slightly flushed. The most distinguishing part of the image is the look in my eyes. Leah somehow managed to capture exactly how I feel when I’m with Simon. Everything around us is muted and blurry, as if we’re the only two people in the cafeteria. Sometimes that’s how I feel when I’m with him. I forget that life is happening around us and just focus on the life happening between us. “I love it,” I whisper. I’m already starting to think about where I can hang it in my bedroom.

“Do you?” Simon asks hopefully. I can’t help but chuckle a little. Sometimes, he reminds me of a puppy. He’s certainly as cute as a puppy.

“I really, really do. Thanks,” I say with a grin. All I can think about is what a bad idea it was to do this in a diner, because all I want to do is kiss him.

It’s on my mind as we eat our breakfast and I can barely wait until he’s seated in my car before I’m pulling him as close to me as the car will allow. “You know that you are too perfect right?” I confirm.

He rolls his eyes and seems a little too distracted to form a coherent thought. I don’t blame him. Kissing him makes my brain go a little fuzzy too.

Our nine days in Savannah pass so quickly, I feel like we just got there. I’d been dreading this trip, but Simon made it a thousand times better. We did so many things I’d never done before. My dad took us parasailing one day. It was so exhilarating, being that high in the air looking out at the ocean which looks infinite, even from the sky. We went snorkeling and went to about a dozen museums. It’s funny, because I’ve gone to Savannah three to four times a year since my parents got divorced, but I’ve never stepped foot inside one of the museums. What makes it all the better is we’re put in a guest room with two double beds. I don’t know if my dad actually thinks we used both beds, but we sleep in the same bed every night. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

Simon even has Sheila wrapped around his finger. I guess I’ve always thought of Sheila as the ‘other woman’, but she’s not that bad. She’s actually funny when I’m not silently judging her in my head.

Our last day in Savannah, my dad and Sheila hug Simon as we are leaving. “You’re welcome anytime. And once little Catherine-”

“We don’t know it’s a girl and we haven’t decided on a name yet,” my dad interjects.

“Once little Catherine is born, you’ll have to come see her all the time,” Sheila finishes. I bite back my laugh. Sheila and my dad had a difference of opinion on whether the baby will be a boy or a girl. Sheila wants a girl, but my dad wants another boy. It was actually hilarious to watch them argue over this throughout our vacation.

“Bye,” I say. I hug my dad and Sheila. “Love you. Keep me updated about the baby. And let me know when you’re ready to paint that nursery.” I was flattered, and a little nervous, when my dad asked if I would help him with that. They were waiting until they knew the sex of the baby because Sheila was all about color coding. She had decided on yellow if it’s a girl and green if it’s a boy. I guess I can appreciate that she’s not sticking to typical gender colors.

I’m exhausted by the time we get home. Thank God we have a day to rest before we go back to school. I drop Simon off and I’m on the phone with him the entire ride to my house because I would have been in serious danger of falling asleep at the wheel if I wasn’t talking to him.

I get to my house just before midnight. I give my mom a quick hug and promise her that we’ll catch up tomorrow. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I sleep well past noon. When I wake up, I’m groggy from oversleeping.

I push myself out of bed and check my phone. I have a missed call from Simon and a text message. _Hey sleeping beauty. Just checking in. Had a blast in Savannah. Love you and miss you already!!_

I can’t help but smile. He’s such a nerd sometimes, but I love him for it.

Going back to school is weird. They still haven’t done anything about the carving on Simon’s locker. They hung a sign over it, but it’s ripped down every day. Eventually they stop trying and eventually Simon and I stop caring. Kids still whisper and call us names, but it’s harmless now.

Our weeks pass in complete bliss. We get to celebrate my birthday together and enjoy the long weekend together. What’s better than us being totally in love is how much our families love us together. My mom absolutely dotes on Simon and Alice has actually texted me to see when she’ll get to see me again. It’s kind of flattering that they’ve accepted us without much thought.

After we’ve been together two months, I begin to think something is up with Simon. He’s a little moody and withdrawn, but whenever I ask him about it, he gets defensive.

Then, a little before we’ve been together for three months, IT happens. The thing I can’t talk about, not even with Simon. And suddenly, he’s not the only one that’s completely withdrawn. We start to argue about the smallest things, but there’s actual anger behind our arguments. It gets so bad that our friends start to notice that something’s happening. They never ask us about it, but I don’t miss the anxious looks they share. I don’t miss the whispered conversations that stop anytime we get near them.

One day during lunch, I snap at him, “can you give me two seconds without breathing down my neck?”

He isn’t doing anything excessive, but he’d asked me if I was okay and I couldn’t take it anymore. I constantly feel like I am crawling out of my skin. I live in constant fear of IT and that IT might happen again. That fear slowly morphed into anger and I am taking it out on the only person that has to put up with me. It’s not fair, but it is what it is. “Woah. What’s going on with you?” He asks.

“Nothing. I’m peachy,” I say sarcastically.

“Clearly you’re not,” he snaps back.

“Drop it,” I warn.

“Or what?” He challenges.

“Jesus, Simon. Just leave me alone!” I grab my tray, throw out my uneaten food, and storm from the cafeteria. I know our exchange isn’t missed by our friends, but I don’t care. They can make their theories for all I care.

I begin making excuses so I don’t have to see Simon after school and I suspect he’s doing the same. The distance between us is almost unbearable, but I feel like I need it. If we don’t have distance, then I might have to talk about IT and I can’t talk about IT. Not with Simon.

Weeks pass and I only see Simon at school.

Then one Friday, Simon shows up at my house after school. His face is deathly pale and he looks like he’s been crying. “Are you cheating on me?” He asks quietly.

I stare at him. “What?” I ask. Of all the assumptions I thought he would jump to, that wasn’t even on the list.

“Are you cheating on me?” He repeats. I just realize that he's still crying, though he's doing his best to retain some sense of composure.

“Why would you think that?” I ask.

“Just answer the question!” Simon shouts.

“Then you answer mine. Do you know anything about me?” I demand. I’m pissed. If he thinks I would cheat on him, he doesn’t know me at all.

“I thought I did, but I guess not,” he said. There’s something about the quiet tone in his voice that makes my blood run icy cold. “I thought that you were someone that I could have a future with, but I guess not.” I had been so confident that he was the one person that would have to put up with my mood swings that I had forgotten he’s under no obligation to be with me. It had seemed like a given to me that he would always be in my life. I feel like throwing up.

“Are you breaking up with me?” I can’t believe this. The words are so impossible, they’re hard to get out and they’re even harder to wrap my head around. He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there with that same angry look on his face. Maybe I’m hurting and I’m using anger to hide it, but I don’t think so. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He counters. “You’ve been distant. We haven’t been on a date in nearly a month. You haven’t said I love you in weeks. What am I supposed to think?”

“You’re not supposed to think I’m cheating on you. You’re acting like a little kid!” I shout back. “Like seriously Simon, could you be any more self-absorbed? Did you ever think the world doesn’t revolve around you? You are not the center of my universe, so will you back off?”

“Fuck you Bram,” Simon says quietly. It’s the quietness of his voice that hurts me the most. It’s like he can’t even muster the strength to yell anymore. He’s given up on me. I watch him turn and run from my house, slamming the door behind him.

The second he disappears from my line of view, the fight and all the anger leaves me. I don’t understand anything that’s happening, but I do know I will never forgive myself if I let him leave. Already, I’m experiencing a loss that makes me feel like air is no longer compatible with my lungs. He’s more important than anything and I realize the problem may be that he doesn’t realize that.

I run to the door, not caring that I’m a blubbering mess. “Simon!” I shout as I open it. He must have felt the same way, because when I open the door, his hand is raised as if he’s about to ring the doorbell. There’s a haunted expression on his face and it almost looks like he doesn’t process that I’ve opened the door.

I don’t think. I just wrap my arms around him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we have to figure this out. You are way too important to me; I can’t lose you.”

“You can’t?” He asks weakly. He practically collapses into my embrace, but I don’t mind the additional weight.

I close my eyes. “No. I can’t.” I kiss his forehead and pull back. “Simon Spier. I don’t say this enough, but you are incredible. Every day you amaze me by showing me a new side of you. You make me believe anything is possible. I love you so much. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Just please, give us a chance. I don’t know what’s going on or why you think I cheated on you, but I would never. You are the only guy for me. Please, give us a chance to work through this. I need you.” My voice is barely a whisper and I hold him a little tighter. My anger feels secondary to my fear that I might actually lose him if I let go.

Simon has pretty much been crying since he got to my house, but now his cry is kind of blubbery. He hides his head in my shoulder and for a while, we just stand there like that. “I’m so sorry. I should have never believed him. Fucking Martin Addison of all people.” His voice is shaky, and it makes my heart twinge.

“It’s not your fault.” But I don’t believe my words. I’m pissed at Simon and we’re definitely going to have a long talk about this later. Right now, though? More than my anger, I’m relieved. As angry as I am, I cannot imagine my life without Simon. He’s been such a significant part of my life since August, even if I didn’t know who he was until three and a half months ago. I’d rather have him in my life and work through my anger than allow my anger to fuel our break up. That would be unbearable.

His grip on me tightens. “It is though. I didn’t know what to do. He sent me these pictures... and he made these comments at school. And it’s like he was able to read my mind and play on every insecurity and fear I have about you. It seemed to make so much sense. You were distant and you just didn’t… it doesn’t matter. I should have known you better than that.”

“It does matter.” I lift his head. “This is as much my fault as yours.” Another thing I don’t fully believe, but I’m working on it. “I’ve been a pretty crappy boyfriend. You’re right. I haven’t said I love you in weeks, we haven’t been on a date in a while, and I have been avoiding you. I never thought about how that would make you feel. Combine that with pictures… wait, pictures? What pictures?”

Simon pulls out his phone and opens a text chain between him and Martin. The first thing I register is that Martin is in his phone as Monkey’s Asshole. That’s such a Simon thing to do and if this weren’t such a serious situation, I probably would have laughed. The first picture is from nearly six weeks ago. I think it clearly looks photoshopped, but that may also be because I know it has to be. I don’t know how Martin got a picture of Simon and I kissing, but he must have, because he’s the only person I’ve ever kissed. We were outside my house, but in the picture, instead of Simon it’s some random guy. Martin’s caption reads: _I guess pasty white guys are his type._

To Simon’s credit, his instantaneous response had been: **Fuck off. He would never.**

But the pictures kept coming. It kind of makes my skin crawl. Is Martin stalking me? How else would he have all these pictures? Us on the little swing on my front porch, us sitting on the steps that lead to my front door, me pulling him out of my car. Every little moment we’d shared at my place seemed to have been doctored and sent to Simon. Over a dozen photos in a six week period. And Martin had included captions with every single one of them. _Trouble in paradise? I guess everything’s not perfect in wonderland. You can do better Spier._ The worst captions were when he tried to sound sympathetic. _I’m here if you need to talk. I’m so sorry. I thought you should know._ My stomach churns. Around a week ago, Simon stopped saying that I would never do anything like that and just started to tell Martin to “fuck off.”

The last message that Martin sent him was from three days ago. It was the day that I was out of school to help my dad paint my soon-to-be baby brother’s nursery. I had made the four-hour drive to Savannah the night before and drove back the next day. It had been a miserable two days of driving and I had been irritable the whole time we were painting. My dad knew about IT, so he didn’t question my mood.

Martin had sent him a picture of me in a park. I frown. I don’t remember ever having gone to the park with Simon… or with anyone. In the picture, me and the same random guy aren’t kissing. We’re leaning into each other and smiling big. It makes my heart hurt more than the kissing pictures did. It makes me look like I was actually happy with this guy Martin created. Not just cheating, but happy with him. I would have freaked out if I were Simon. It has the caption: _Do you know what your boyfriend is doing? oh, sorry. who he is doing?_

Simon never answered that message. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.

“I didn’t think it was anything at first,” he explains. He has a far off look in his eyes. “I thought Martin was just being an asshole. But when he didn’t stop, I got scared. He only sent them to me on days that you said you were busy and you stopped wanting to go on dates…”

I bite my lip. This is really as much my fault as it is his. “Come sit down. There’s something I need to tell you.” I lead him to my living room and wait until he’s sitting down to sit next to him. “Do you remember three weeks ago when we went to see that movie?”

Simon nods. “You were in the bathroom for half the movie and then we left early because you weren’t feeling well. We haven’t gone out since.”

“Something happened when I went to the bathroom,” I say slowly. I don’t know how to do this. I’d spent so much time and energy trying to hide IT from him. I’d spent even more energy not thinking about IT. But Simon is more important than that. He is everything to me.

“What happened?” He asks breathlessly. His breath hitches and I know he’s scared to hear what comes next.

I close my eyes. I can still feel the press of the man’s hand on my wrists. “There was this older guy there. He was probably in his late thirties, early forties. He… he must have been in the same theater as us and I guess he followed me out. He told me that we ruined romance for straight couples and that we were an abomination. I ignored him at first, but when I was washing my hands, he pushed me up against the wall. I could smell that he was drunk.” I close my eyes. I’ve had nightmares about this. Everyone says it doesn’t happen anymore. Everyone says things are different now. Everyone doesn’t know anything. “I really thought he was going to kill me.” My voice sounds small and squeaky. “He pulled me back and pushed me against the wall so that my head hit it… hard. Then he just kept pushing and pushing against my chest. He said the less air I breathed in, the more there was for normal people. I couldn’t breathe. No matter what I tried, I could find my breath.” I feel a tear slip down my cheek. Simon’s hands find mine and he’s holding them tight. “He was strong and the more I fought, the harder he pressed. I just remember thinking that I was going to die in a movie theater bathroom of all places. My vision got spotty and I felt like I was going to pass out. Still he pressed.” I closed my eyes and I pull one of my hands free of Simon. I instinctively go to the area of my chest where I felt the pressure. Sometimes I can still feel it. “I got lucky. An off-duty police officer walked in. I guess he was going to the bathroom with his son, but when he saw what was happening, he made his son turn around and stare at the wall. He pulled the guy off of me, called one of his coworkers to pick him up, and took my statement.”

“And then you went into the handicap stall?” Simon guesses. I nod. That’s where I was when he found me. When I hadn’t returned, he came looking for me. He found me after I’d finished crying and when I told him I wasn’t feeling well, he was the one to suggest we call it an early night.

Simon hugs me tight. “I wish I had known,” he whispers. He’s crying, but in a different way than before. “I wish I could have done something for you.”

“My mom found out three days later. That whole week, I made up excuses, so I wouldn’t have to see you. I didn’t want you to know, because I didn’t want you to worry. That day after school, two police officers came to my house to follow up with me about my options,” I continue. “That’s where I’ve been so many days after school. My mom hired a lawyer. I don’t know if she’s trying to get a restraining order or what she wants exactly, but she definitely wants something. I’ve had to meet with him a couple of days a week. Things move so slowly.”

“I’m so, so sorry. I assumed the worst of you and the whole time you’ve been dealing with this,” Simon laments.

“It’s not your fault. I should have told you. I just didn’t want to frighten you.” I look down at the carpet. I hadn’t wanted to admit how scared I was about it.

“You should have frightened me,” he asserts. “I’d rather us have been scared together.”

“I know. I think we both have things to be sorry for,” I whisper. “But we’ll do better. No more secrets?”

“No more secrets,” he confirms.

I don’t think it’s my imagination, but there’s a newfound intensity when we bring our lips together. I think both of us realize how close we came to losing each other and neither of us ever wants to come that close again. My eyes widen as I realize that I do intend to be with Simon for the rest of my life. It may seem like it’s too soon to make a decision like that or like we’re too young, but if there’s anything I’m sure of, it’s him. “I love you,” I whisper.

“Love you too.”

“Stay the night?” I look at him. This may be impulsive, but after what almost happened today, I’m ready. “My mom won’t be back until tomorrow. She’s helping my stepmom with some things. Apparently, my dad is useless at preparing for a baby. So, we’d have the house to ourselves.”

His eyes actually look like saucers as he understands that I’m not just asking him to spend the night. They’re big and full of surprise. I don’t think it’s my own wishful thinking that makes me think there’s a bit of excitement and hope in there as well. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he finally manages.

The next day, every time we make eye contact, I get overwhelmed with a flurry of memories and emotions from the night before. Simon stays until my mom gets home. If she suspects that anything happened last night, she doesn’t say it. Instead, she observes, “You two seem happy.”

“I told Simon about that guy,” I tell her. “We had a long talk. Things are going to be different.” I shrug. My mom has been telling me for weeks that I needed to talk to Simon like an adult. My excuse was always that I wasn’t an adult, but now I know that was no excuse.

“Good,” she says softly.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Simon suggests. “We need to get back out there if we’re ever going to date again and I promise, I won’t leave your side. Not once.”

I hesitate. That guy took his homophobia to the next level, but he’s not the only one that has a problem with us being gay. But Simon’s right. We’re never going to go out again if I keep using my fear as an excuse. “Okay,” I whisper. My heart is thumping uncomfortably fast and everytime I close my eyes, I see that guy.

“Mini golf and ice cream. We’ll be in and out,” he promises.

I wonder if it’s intentional that he chose such a public place for our date. In any case, it’s going to be difficult for anyone to get me alone when we’re on a crowded mini golf course.

It turns out we’re both pretty bad at mini golf. Enough so that we stop taking it seriously and just kind of mess around with taking wild shots. “Okay, highest score wins,” Simon suggests. “Maybe if we try to miss the hole we’ll actually get it in.”

I laugh and I feel more carefree than I’ve felt in weeks. Something about Simon pretending his golf club is a cane and the crisp night air. Even though it’s the beginning of April, it’s cool enough at night that the course is packed with people enjoying that it’s not too hot and not too cold. It’s the perfect night. We get our ice cream and drive to a park to eat it and look at the stars.

“Hey Bram?” Simon asks.

“Yeah?” I look at him curiously.

“I’m really sorry,” he says quietly. He looks troubled by something. “I’m sorry that I made it about me. You were right. I’m not the center of your universe and I never should have assumed I was.”

“I didn’t mean that,” I tell him seriously. “I was just angry. The world may not revolve around you, but my world does. I never should have said that.”

He plays with his fingers and looks uncomfortable. “Here’s the thing. We both said things we regret and you told your mom that things would be different, but I think we really need to talk about how they’ll be different. I don’t ever want this to happen again. You are way too important to me. And honestly, when I walked out, that was the worst freaking minute of my life.”

I put my hands on either side of his face and look him right in the eye. “Simon Spier,” I say in the most serious voice I can muster. “I promise to communicate with you to the best of my ability. When things happen that are upsetting me, I promise to tell you. If I notice you are withdrawing, I promise to confront you about it. Most importantly, I promise to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

Simon’s hands grab mine tightly and pull them away from his face. “Bram Greenfeld,” he says in an equally serious voice. “I promise to talk to you if I’m upset with something you are doing. I promise to tell you everything, even if I’m worried it will upset you. I promise that when you withdraw, I will pull you back in. I promise to love you like you’ve never been loved before.”

My heart starts to thump in my chest. We meet halfway over my gearshift and our kiss is so intense, I feel it in every atom of my body. “I feel like we just exchanged wedding vows,” he jokes.

“If your wedding vows sound like that, I will turn my back on you immediately,” I warn him. “Now please. No more talking.”

He’s eager to oblige.

Two days later, we walk into the school with our heads held high and our hands held tight. The first thing I notice is the whispers. They don’t seem to be directed towards us. It isn’t until English class that Abby clues us in to what happened.

Someone found out about what Martin had done. Apparently, he used a school computer to make all the photoshopped pictures and someone found the whole folder of doctored photos on Friday. That someone, whom no one has been able to identify, posted to creeksecrets about what Martin had done. It’s all around school that he tried to break us up. We’d been so distracted all weekend, Simon hadn’t had a chance to check creeksecrets and I hadn’t been on the tumblr in months.

Everyone seems really pissed off at Martin, which is kind of refreshing. People may not approve of our relationship, but they apparently disapprove of him trying to break us up even more. I find it ironic that they’re so angry with him, considering they don’t even know about the blackmail part. They only know that he outed us and tried to break us up. In retrospect, he has more than enough strikes against him to justify their anger.

Abby’s eyes find us the moment we walk into English and the relief on her face is almost comical. It’s obvious she thought we might have gotten into a fight over those pictures… which, I guess technically we did. When she sees us holding hands, I half expect her to jump up and hug us. She looks ready to. It’s the most physical contact we’ve had at school in weeks.

When I watch several students call Martin an asshole, I am shocked. Firstly, the irony of it doesn’t escape my notice, considering all of this started because Martin had logged into my email from a school computer. It seems like karma has quite the sense of humor. Secondly, the fact that kids care enough to be angry with Martin surprises me to no end. These are the same kids that have been calling Simon and I fags since we were outed.

Over a week passes and things don’t get better for Martin. He stops eating lunch in the cafeteria and even his friends look like they don’t quite know what to do with him. We don’t try to talk to Martin and he’s smart enough not to try to talk to us.

At least, he’s smart enough for about two weeks. “Can I talk to you?” Martin asks us. He intercepts us as we’re waiting in line to get lunch.

I glance at Simon and shrug. If we don’t talk to him now, who knows what he’ll do? He’s proven that nothing’s off the table when it comes to him. So, we follow him out to the hallway. “Look, I’m sorry. For everything. I understand if you hate me. I never realized how shitty it would feel to have your personal business all over school. The stares and the whispers are horrible. I never would have outed you like that if I knew what it felt like.” He shudders. “It’s the worst.”

I probably should have felt sorry for him, but I didn’t have it in me. Not after what he did. And especially not, because the only reason that he’s sorry is because he’s experiencing it right now. It doesn’t help that he didn’t apologize for the blackmail or the pictures. “Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?” I ask angrily.

Simon stares at me. “I can’t believe you just said bitch.”

“It’s a saying.” I roll my eyes. I was raised in a household where absolutely no cursing was allowed, so when I curse, it feels intentional and forced. It’s something that boggles Simon, who is extremely comfortable with cursing, to no end.

I glance at Martin. “Look, Martin. It's not that we hate you. We just hate what you did.” I think back to what Simon said after we left Ms. Knight’s office four months ago. “Actions have consequences. Your actions have consequences. If you’re looking for forgiveness, you came to the wrong place. Not only did you out us, but you tried to break us up! Like who the fuck does that?” Now I know Simon is really staring at me. It's not everyday that I curse twice in the same conversation.

“I was hurting. And you two seemed to be lost in your little love wonderland,” Martin says. His voice is still shaky from crying. “I didn't mean to almost break you up. I just wanted to create a little drama for you.”

“Because being gay isn't dramatic enough,” I grumble.

I don’t have it in me to fight with him, but fortunately, Simon is willing to pick this battle. “So, you decided that the appropriate reaction was to make us miserable?” Simon asks. He is quite possibly more pissed at Martin than I am. I guess it makes sense. Martin tried to make it look like I was cheating on him, but Simon’s the one that believed it. I don't think Simon will ever forgive himself for that.

At first, I had been so angry with Simon that I had probably been totally okay with that. But then we almost broke up and everything changed. Now I don't have room to feel angry with him. I know he was coming from a place of hurt when he accused me of cheating. And honestly, I probably would have reacted the same way if I was presented with the same evidence. What matters is that every day, our relationship is stronger because of it.

Simon is a wonderful boyfriend and I'm at least partially at fault for everything that happened, because I was the one that withdrew.

I take one last look at Martin. “Go to hell,” I spit before I grab Simon's hand and turn to walk away. It may be cruel, especially on top of everything else he's going through, but Martin looked for sympathy in all the wrong places.

We go back to our lunch table and Simon has a troubled look on his face. I groan. “I know that look. You want to help him.”

“Just give me a second,” Simon mutters. I watch him as he gets up and taps Maddie Sylvester on the shoulder. I frown. He couldn't have picked a worse person to try to comfort Martin. Maddie was rude, self-absorbed, would do just about anything to get ahead, and she seems to take pleasure in other people's pain… on second thought, she is probably perfect for Martin. I watch their exchange with curiosity. Maddie nods and grabs her stuff before she leaves the cafeteria.

When Simon gets back, he's barely in his seat before I pull him to his feet. “We're eating in the auditorium,” I say as I drag him behind me.

I know Simon can't make heads or tails of my weird mood. I can't either. I just had a sudden need to kiss him. I pull him to the boys’ locker room backstage and lock the door behind us. Before he can even ask, I'm kissing him.

When I break the kiss, we're both panting. I’m still holding his hands and I have no intention of letting go. “What was that for?” He questions. He's looking at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am. It's hard to tell when I'm around him.

“You found a friend for Martin,” I say breathlessly.

“Yeah, well. I guess I can sympathize. When I thought… you know, I got to a pretty dark place. When I made up my mind that we were done… it wasn’t pretty,” he explains. “If it hadn’t been for Nick and Leah, I actually think I would have gone crazy. I may hate Martin for what he did, but I don’t want him to be completely miserable. And if I don't do something, then I'd be as bad as he is.”

I stare at him in awe. Every day he amazes me. I don’t think I would have been able to do what he did for Martin. “Have I mentioned how awesome you are?” I ask him.

“It may have come up,” he says. I can see how pleased he is.

“I love you,” I remind him.

He closes his eyes. “I love you too.”

I pull him close to me and hug him. I don’t think I fully appreciated what it meant to have him in my life until recently. I know a lot of people think this is a silly high school relationship and that we’ll outgrow our feelings one day, but I know better. And Simon knows better. We happened to meet in high school and circumstance happened to bring us together, but it’s our love that keeps us together and keeps us going strong through all the ups and downs.


End file.
